Venetian ladies did not let him want for any, being all very much in
love with his handsome face and his Polish manners. We soon became good
friends, my purse was his, but, twenty years later, he assisted me to a
far greater extent in Munich. Zawoiski was honest, he had only a small
dose of intelligence, but it was enough for his happiness. He died in
Trieste five or six years ago, the ambassador of the Elector of Treves. I
will speak of him in another part of these Memoirs.

This amiable young man, who was a favourite with everybody and was
thought a free-thinker because he frequented the society of Angelo
Querini and Lunardo Venier, presented me one day, as we were out walking,
to an unknown countess who took my fancy very strongly. We called on her
in the evening, and, after introducing me to her husband, Count Rinaldi,
she invited us to remain and have supper.

The count made a faro bank in the course of the evening, I punted with
his wife as a partner, and won some fifty ducats.

Very much pleased with my new acquaintance, I called alone on the
countess the next morning. The count, apologizing for his wife who was
not up yet, took me to her room. She received me with graceful ease, and,
her husband having left us alone, she had the art to let me hope for
every favour, yet without committing herself; when I took leave of her,
she invited me to supper for the evening. After supper I played, still in
partnership with her, won again, and went away very much in love. I did
not fail to pay her another visit the next morning, but when I presented
myself at the house I was told that she had gone out.

I called again in the evening, and, after she had excused herself for not
having been at home in the morning, the faro bank began, and I lost all
my money, still having the countess for my partner. After supper, and
when the other guests had retired, I remained with Zawoiski, Count
Rinaldi having offered to give us our revenge. As I had no more money, I
played upon trust, and the count threw down the cards after I had lost
five hundred sequins. I went away in great sorrow. I was bound in honour
to pay the next morning, and I did not possess a groat. Love increased my
despair, for I saw myself on the point of losing the esteem of a woman by
whom I was smitten, and the anxiety I felt did not escape M. de Bragadin
when we met in the morning. He kindly encouraged me to confess my
troubles to him. I was conscious that it was my